Title: 11 - National Anthem Artist: The Gaslight Anthem 2,455 plays


National Anthem /// The Gaslight Anthem


Incredible work by @philgarcia805

Tender Hearted Harlot, paperback cover by Harry Barton

(via vintagegal)


Tattoo by Shawn McDonald @sunserpent


Healed on Tayler! (at Heart and Soul tattoo)

(via foolsgoldd)

You are allowed to be alive. You are allowed to be somebody different. You are allowed to not say goodbye to anybody or explain a single thing to anyone, ever.

Augusten Burroughs (via thatkindofwoman)

(via thatkindofwoman)

Title: Older Chests Artist: Damien Rice 2,219 plays

And we always seem to need the help
Of someone else
To mend that shelf
Too many books
Read me your favourite line

(via beautifail)

I think my hands are the most tortured
part of my body because they can’t stop
writing to someone who is not here.

valentina thompson (via theseoverusedwords)

(via anditslove)

I wonder
whose arms would I run and fall into
if I were drunk
in a room with everyone
I have ever loved.

(via aazizam)

I think about this a lot

(via brooooookas)

Title: Gravity Artist: Sara Bareilles 58,981 plays


Sara Bareilles | “Gravity”

"You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much.."

(via anditslove)

(via debonairfucker)

(via lyshaeskro)

Feeling good about myself today. Baby steps.



by Gemma Correll


10 Honest Thoughts on Being Loved by a Skinny Boy
By Rachel Wiley

I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me 

My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.

On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.

When we hold hands in public, 
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.

Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.

He tells me he loves me with the lights on.

I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful. 
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.

The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop 
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.

The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty. 
I am not a fucking novelty.

I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me

Love this piece! Reminds me of my own thoughts and fears about dating as a fat girl, and makes me want to say ‘fuck you’ to all those fears!

(via oralfixationation)